


The Box

by lilredsoupbowl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilredsoupbowl/pseuds/lilredsoupbowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hadn't meant to tell Neal about the sonogram she kept at the bottom of her old cigar box.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Box

Emma returned to the table with two glasses; finding that Neal had already opened the bottle of whiskey and was helping himself to some generous swigs of the strong stuff.

Tonight was their first attempt at 'dating'… living in a car and stealing; epic adventures in other worlds; declaring your love in dire circumstances – none of that really fit the bill of traditional dates.

Nor did this, Emma berated herself. She had no idea why she'd let it slip over dinner that she'd kept a sonogram of Henry through the years. Or that there was a baby picture as well. Both stuffed at the very bottom of her Don Metup's cigar box. The same place the swan pendant resided for several years.

She'd only gotten to hold him for a split second after his birth; longer than she told herself she would prior. But someone had captured the moment: a rare content smile on Emma's face as she gazed down at the baby she would never see again. Weeks after her release, when she found herself in a dark place, she would pull out the photograph and imagine a happier world; where the kid wasn't about to be pulled away from her by social services; where she could have been the mother he deserved. To protect her sanity, after two years in Tallahassee the sonogram, the photograph – every last thing Neal had left her with were all packed away in a cigar box. She couldn't toss them to the side or leave them behind; but she knew she had to keep going.

Everything but the bug – but they didn't make boxes that big!

Neal had taken the news bad. Positively seething at her from across the table. Angry that she hadn't once considered showing him either; or offerred him the same type of connection she got with fetus they created.

She had tried to shrug it off, thinking Neal would certainly let it go; that they could continue their flirting and teasing – what had been so rousing before she'd dropped the bomb. But Neal wasn't one to forget. And, honestly, Emma wasn't surprised when he invited himself inside; sat down at the table and waited.

He was a stubborn shit when he wanted to be. Every inch the same as Henry and herself. A stubborn shit of a family they made.

She poured herself a glass of whiskey; gulping back a tumble full in one sip. Enjoying the way the liquid burned the back of her throat. She moved to pour another as Neal watched her, taking only a sip under Neal's watch before setting down her glass and moving under the room's bed; reaching to pull the cigar box out.

In her hands again, she caressed the sides. The worn wood. The firebird of red on top. The prison she'd lovingly kept all her sentimentality inside for almost a decade. Now – it simply flooded out of her. Her parents, Henry, and Neal all the principle triggers. But this box had been an effective floodgate; she'd always be thankful for that.

Slowly heading back to the table, Emma placed the box in the center. A pleasant surprise: Neal had the foresight of filling her glass back up to the rim; himself as well.

A few more sips, all the while ignoring any eye contact with the man across from her, Emma finally raised her head, nodding towards the box; allowing him to make the next move.

Tentatively, Neal reached for the box; brushing his thumbs lightly along the edges as he moved it closer to his side. With a final breath as an attempt to relax himself, Neal opened the lid.

She watched as he started going through her little world; he opened the folder about her childhood. The paperwork about her life in the foster care system. Newspaper clippings about the lost baby Emma; who could this infant's parents be?

Part of her wanted to reach across the table and snatch the folder out of his hands. That hadn't been what he wanted after all! And wasn't something she'd offered up; not even to her parents. But – she took another sip instead. Allowed Neal to read on; his brow creased in concentration.

Maybe it was better that she opened that part up fully to Neal, before her parents. He – he would understand.

She could almost see him pasting together her whole story; based on what she'd told him a decade ago in Portland and the files in his hand. When he was finished, he set them gentle to the side; pulling out the next item of interest.

Henry's sonogram.

She'd been so much in denial in her first trimester; trying to explain her late period as stress. Clearly, she'd had a shit-load to be stressed about those first three months.

When the technician pressed the sheet into her hands; Emma had tried to give it back. But was already being taken back to her cell – sonogram in hand.

There wasn't much to look at. She remembered bits and pieces of what the technician explained about the various sections; she may have been a stubborn teenager trying to be indifferent about the life growing inside of her – but the location of her baby's little heart; where his feet and hands were forming… Emma could still point those out easily.

She regarded Neal for a moment; his face filled with curiosity as his eyes moved across the sheet. Studying the image like he could actually identify bits of their twelve year old from the early scan.

"He… he looks just like –"

"He looks like a lima bean, Neal."

"A very cute lima bean," a proud papa boasted. "Probably the cutest lima bean fetus in –"

Glass in hand, Emma scrapped her chair to the opposite end of the table; taking a seat on Neal's left as she started pointing to different areas of the scan.

"There – that's his heart forming. When they had it up on the monitor I could see it beating. It was so rapid, I was worried something was wrong but they told me it was normal; very healthy actually –"

Neal's index finger slide along the little heart; staring in reverence. Clearing her throat, Emma continued,

"And that will be –"

"His penis," Neal interrupted, seeming quite proud of himself. "Looks like he got my –"

"That's one of his feet, Neal."

"Are you sure –"

"It's still a little early for gender at this point."

"When –" Neal stammered, moving to make a long gulp of his whiskey before continuing. "How far along would this have been?"

"I believe this would have been four months."

Neal said nothing, instead continuing to memorize the scan. Emma was about ready to take another sip of whiskey when his eyes shot up to meet hers. Neal excitedly exclaimed, "Show me more!" He gestured to the scan and smiled back at her.

She went through what she remembered, making educated guesses when she couldn't. They must have spent near an hour going over something barely the size of a tennis ball – and she was certain Neal could have spent longer had his eyes not glimpsed into the box. He froze instantly, blood draining from his face. Emma first response was to run; or to throw the lid back on the box and politely show him to the door – but he'd already reached inside the box, pulling out the photograph of her holding a newborn Henry.

Her hair had been a mess; locks of sweaty blonde hair falling out of her hastily placed bun. Face still pasty and damp. Henry at least had been cleaned off before hand; nestled in her arms in a fresh, white blanket; off setting his dark hair and eyes – painful for both parents to behold.

Young Emma was exhausted, but regarding the baby fondly. She remembered instantly seeing his father in his looks – and hating herself for not despising the baby for this resemblance; for actually smiling down at the little Neal in her arms.

Neal could no longer hide his emotions in anger or humor; just raw pain flooded his face. No longer excitedly asking her to narrate what was going on – it was enough; the photograph itself.

It was a prison hospital ward. His fault.

Henry was going to be taken away. His fault.

Emma would be alone again. His fault.

It should have been Tallahassee. He should have been by their side. They should have taken their son home- he should have supplied his family a better life.

Emma watched as tears started to pool in the corners of her lover's eyes – moved to place a comforting hand on his arm – but Neal was quick on his feet. Apologizing. Repeatedly apologizing: for inviting himself over. For staying so long. For having to leave early since he was opening the pawn shop in the morning.

She showed him to the door; received the traditional first-date peck on the lips as a goodbye before he was bounding down the stairs into the night.

Clearing the whiskey and glasses, Emma once again filled her cigar box; hoping to restore it back under her bed before her parents and Henry returned – but the photograph was missing.

She shook her head in disbelief. Neal still had light fingers.

Once a thief, always a thief.


End file.
